Page 101 of The Dommes

“But Kathleen…”

“No, no. Listen, I like you. I like Ira well enough. I have nothing against your family or the idea of being a more formal part of your lives one day. Who knows? Maybe she’ll drag me to a dinner now that she’s let it slip to both of her parents that we’re fooling around, but we’re not getting married. We are definitely not having babies. We’ll be lucky to make it more than a few weeks at this rate. Please, don’t put any pressure on a relationship that probably shouldn’t be happening anyway.”

She looks as if I told her that Ira’s dead. No, just our potential love. Not that I want to ever call it that.

“I’m sorry, Kathleen,” she finally says. “I’ve overstepped my bounds. Please forgive me.”

She takes her leave of my apartment. If she had a tail, it might be tucked between her legs. I feel bad. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s being a mother who is excited her only child is supposedly making a good girlfriend choice. In any other circumstance, I would be pleased to know that my girlfriend’s mother thought so highly of me. God knows I’ve heard the horror stories, especially in my family’s social circle.

Except I can’t let people think that Ira and I are anything serious. It’s too complicated to explain, and so few people would understand what’s going on.

I can’t even tell Eve, who I catch standing in my room dropping eaves, that I want Ira Mathison to “train” me to indulge in my latent submissive tendencies.

This is the type of secret I can’t stand keeping. Yet I have to, for my sake, and hers.

For the sake of my heart, which feels a little broken. I don’t know why.

Chapter 38

Ira

These meetings will be the death of me. Death by boredom. Even with Kathleen sitting next to me, looking like a yellow diamond sparkling in the harsh ultraviolet lights.

It’s Wednesday. Do you know what that means?

Her pencil taps against the table, to the point I’ve had to covertly reach over and stifle the sounds with my hand multiple times. Each time she blushes. Any other day, and she wouldn’t blush, but she knows what’s happening tonight.

Tonight, we begin the next phase of our relationship.

My mind is at odds with my body. My mind knows that this is more about her needs and wants than my own. Yet my body is so hot on the idea of bending her over, tying her hands behind her back, and making her scream the word Mistress that I’ve been hiding my flustered face all day.

Fuck her. Fuck me. Shit, I’m sure we’ll get around to it today.

She doesn’t need to be so nervous, though. The collar is sitting in my condo, waiting to be placed around her neck – with her permission, of course. I’m not starting the scene until that happens. For now, it’s her and me as we always are. Yet I’m sure it’s not that simple in her mind.

Her cunning mind that is really not on its game today.

Of course, this does not look good in front of the Anderssens, who are ready to sign on the dotted line that would transfer ownership of The Ace over to the Mathison family. Good thing Kathleen isn’t officially part of the buy.

Do you know who is?

The woman crashing the meeting, her coiffed hair tangling in her earrings without a care.

My mother was not invited to this meeting. Yet there she is, sitting across from Kathleen and me, her eyes darting between us with the goofiest smile on her face. I look to my father, who tightens up and clears his throat. He won’t meet my eyes.

The gabby bastard. What was it, Dad? Did your ex-wife grab you by the gonads as she always does and demand to know what I’ve told you about my love life recently?

Is this how she keeps finding out about me? The papers my ass! See if I tell my father shit again.

Kathleen stiffens so hard that I think she might be turning into a piece of wood. I graze my hand against her knee beneath the table and feel her relax. This isn’t going to get any easier with both of my parents making fools out of themselves.

The Anderssens don’t notice and continue the meeting with both of our lawyers present.

By the end of the meeting, I feel like the only thing that’s been accomplished is finding out that my parents know. What I don’t anticipate is what my mother says to me after the meeting, when we’re alone in the half-destroyed lobby of The Ace with the signs of protestors still marching back and forth across the street.

“I had the loveliest talk with Kathleen on Monday,” she says in a low, cheerful voice. “You’ll never guess what she told me about you and her…”

Oh, I can guess. I can guess to the point I’m glaring at the back of Kathleen’s French twist without any regard for who sees me doing it. Like my mother.

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